


How the Clint Was Won

by QueenieKildare



Series: Bobs & Dicks Verse [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: All the swearing, Alternate Universe - Crack, Bobs and Dicks, Crack, Department for Invective Communication, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 08:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19147000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieKildare/pseuds/QueenieKildare
Summary: Clint was convinced that Nick Fury is Satan incarnate. And Phil Coulson is his devoted horseman.It was the only explanation for this current bit of fuckery.





	How the Clint Was Won

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vamprav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamprav/gifts).



> If this universe seems familiar it's because vamprav also wrote a kickass story about the Bob universe. Seriously, go check it out. It's called BOB 117 and it's absolutely amazing.
> 
> Thank you to all the amazing people on Discord, you've been super encouraging and without all of you not only would this fic have never happened, but I'd have never had the balls to post it either. Thanks guys! <3
> 
> Glossary:  
> BOB - Bitch Out Bitches  
> DIC - Department for Invective Communications  
> DICK - Dedicated Invective Communication Knockouts  
> DILDO - Directive Instruction for Lacklustre Disappointing Obloquy  
> DIL - Daily Invectives List  
> SOB - Sovereign of Bitches

# How the Clint Was Won

 

 

Clint was convinced that Nick Fury is Satan incarnate. And Phil Coulson is his devoted horseman.

It was the only explanation for this current bit of fuckery.

He’d spent the last four months stuck in the ass end of nowhere with no hot water, internet or decent conversation. He’d been bored out of his mind, fed nothing but lousy cabbage based food of questionable origins, and shot at. Upon his return to headquarters, he’d been promised that he would get two weeks of downtime. _Promised_. This could only be a punishment though Clint hadn’t even fucked up recently so why Fury was punishing him was a mystery for the ages.

The assignment? Infiltrate SI and get as much intel as possible while working his way up through the ranks. Like _anyone_ could do that after that thing with Nat and the palladium poisoning. Stark took that shit personally. And he _personally_ made sure it couldn’t happen again.

Hence, his devout belief that Nick Fury is the devil and Phil Coulson is his devoted horseman.

Nick Fury is also the head of SHIELD, so to SI Clint would go. Under protest. With his Will current, updated and on file with his lawyer. Not that he’d like it. He was ninety-five percent sure he’d hate the fuck out of this assignment. He was also convinced that this assignment was going to lead to his complete, untimely death; hence the updating of his Will.

And considering the number of close calls he’d had and the sheer breadth of people who’d tried to end him, that was saying something. The only person in the entire agency who had a higher enemy list than Clint’s was Natasha and she didn’t count since she’d been alive for-fucking-ever and had been an assassin for the vast majority of that time.

Still, this was going to be a disaster. A giant, flaming disaster. Stark was going to kill. him. dead. Stark was going to roast him alive over an arc powered incinerator and piss on his ashes. He’d let Pepper Potts dance all over his ashes in her stylish, couture footwear...If there was anything left at all.

There were several openings in SI but Clint wasn’t remotely qualified for most of the. The only one he was even slightly qualified for was in the Department for Invective Communications which was part of the Legal Department. Be still his beating heart. He was might to get to work in _legal_. Granted, he wanted to get into the DIC but still...legal. Shield didn’t pay enough to compensate for this shit.

All told, the interview went well, though painful and baffling, and he’d been pushed through for a second interview. _That_ interview went well and he was set to start in two days. He was still kind of surprised how quickly that whole process had been.

Thankfully, his backstopping was top notch so he had a bulletproof identity and a decent apartment to go home to. He fervently believed that while Tony could and most definitely _would_ fuck over his life when he found out that Clint was a SHIELD plant, this was going to be an easy assignment. Famous last words.

Clint ordered himself some pizza and settled in with the dossiers on SI he’d been given with his dog Pizza. It was time to get his game face on.

\-----

Clint was awake bright and early on Monday getting ready for his new “job” at SI. He was determined to make Fury eat this assignment and to do that he had to bring his A-Game. So he was caffeinated, fed and at SI by 8:45 am. He just had to go to HR to get his welcome paperwork done so he could get his credentials and begin his day for real.

Grace Moorely, the HR manager he’d interviewed with walked him through his welcome paperwork and got him through security for his credentials with the kind of efficiency that Phil would appreciate. She was absolutely terrifying and he was thrilled she hadn’t already decided to take over the world. She’d be able to pull it off too. He shuddered.

She also took him to the 65th floor, where the DIC was located, and got him introduced to his supervisor Richard. The office took up the entire floor and required a verbal confirmation before the elevator doors would even open. Clint knew that it was really Jarvis running the security but he was sure most people weren’t aware.

“Adam, this is Richard. He’ll be your supervisor and trainer until you get your feet under you,” Grace said. “Please remember that you cannot get into the building without your security badge and the elevator will not go to this floor without your badge. Your badge is your lifeline in SI and you _must_ have it on you at all times. Gentlemen, this is where I leave you, have a great morning.” Grace nodded to both men and promptly left.

The DIC took up the entire 65th floor and the floor itself was divided into sections. To the left was a nice little kitchen that had a suspiciously “Stark” coffee maker. Clint wouldn’t be surprised if the thing had a personality and was entirely hands-free. _He’d be right, that coffee maker was created by Stark himself as a gift to the department a week after it opened. They were still very grateful for Sheila, she made the world’s best coffee._

Directly next to the kitchen was a dining room fit for any college dorm. There were two overstuffed couches, a handful of plush chairs, several tables with more traditional seating, bean bag chairs, and end tables covered in magazines. The backs of the couches and chairs had handmade crocheted blankets in crazy color combinations. None of the colors for the furniture or blankets matched. Overall, the effect was a dining space that was cozy and eclectic where people could eat either alone or in groups and still have fun.

The office space was next to the dining area and delineated by desks grouped in clusters, though they lacked the typical office “cubicle” feeling as there _were_ no cubicles. Rather there were a bunch of desks pushed together and they all were overflowing with personal items and decorations. This leant the desks some individuality but made the space kind of chaotic. He’d yet to see the bathrooms, though he was sure they’d be amazing, Stark never half-assed anything.

Clint’s attention was quickly grabbed by Richard who began his introduction speech. “Welcome to the Department for Invective Communication. During working hours, you may refer to me as Dick 12 _._ Also, while you are working you will _only_ answer to Bob 42. I do not care what your real name is or what anyone calls you anywhere else in the building or outside of it. While you are _here_ , you will go by Bob 42 and _only_ Bob 42, capiche?” Dick 12 asked severely.

“Yes, sir. I understand completely.” Clint said startled. He was starting to wonder what Fury had gotten him into.

“Excellent!” Dick 12 clapped his hands. “Now that we’ve gotten that bit of unpleasantness over with, let me explain what you’ll be doing and how things work around here.” Dick 12 said. “Every Bob and Dick have been hand-picked for this department because they have the skills necessary to do the work” Dick 12 began.

“Bobs are promoted to Dicks when a current Dick leaves or if your work is so stellar that you draw the attention of Jarvis, our boss. Or Tony, he’s been known to promote Bobs before, though this happens rarely” Dick 12 said. He led Clint over to an empty desk. “Bob stands for Bitch Out Bitches and Dick stands for Dedicated Invective Communication Knockouts. Bobs do the heavy lifting in the DIC but there are instances when you’ll need to escalate a call to a Dick. Don’t feel bad, some people just need a good Dicking.” Dick 12 laughed.

“Right,” Clint said flatly. He was _really_ starting to question _all_ his life choices. “So what exactly will I be doing?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Dick 12 enthused. “The DIC has a very special role here at SI. It's our sworn duty to tell off the people who piss Dr. Stark off” He said seriously.

Clint just stared at him. “What, seriously?” He asked. He was waiting for the punchline.

“Absolutely! Your job is to call the list of people you’ll be given and to tell them off in the most derogatory, creative, painful way possible. And I mean that, Bob 42. Your calls will be recorded and at the end of the month, your insults will be graded. Better grades translate to more perks like a larger bonus, bragging rights, and the most coveted title of Sovereign of Bitches. The Sovereign of Bitches is a special title that is handed out based on merit. You have to be mind-blowingly amazing to get SOB. It comes with an extra special perk. For an entire week, the SOB gets their pick of assignments. This is special because we all have favorites that we just love to call to bitch out or someone who’s pissed us off so badly that we just can’t wait to bitch them out” Dick 12 said with a laugh.

“Each month, we have a viewing party where we play the best insults. There’s popcorn and pizza and beer; everyone has a fantastic time” Dick 12 said earnestly. “You don’t want to be part of the Walk of Shame.” He shuddered. “Only the worst insults get added to the Walk of Shame. If you’re part of the WOS for more than 2 months, you’ll be subject to the DILDO board. The Directive Instruction for Lackluster and Disappointing Obloquy board reviews your calls and makes suggestions on how you can correct your performance. If you get sent to the DILDO board and you don’t make drastic improvements you’ll be fired.  So make sure you brought your snark A-Game; you’re gonna need it.” He patted Clint on the shoulder as he walked away to get another chair.

“If you’ll just give me a minute I’ll get your list for today. Normally, your assignments will be assigned to you through our special program and you’ll work from there. But while you’re in training, we’ll go over your list together. Typically, Bobs only need a day of training to really get their feet under them.” Dick 12 said while signing into the system. “Here is your list for today.” He said while pulling up Clint’s chair close.

As Clint and Dick 12 looked at his assignment list, Clint’s heart sank. He was _so_ getting fired. _Nick_ _Fury_ was number one on his list! He was going to have to call up his boss and bitch him out to keep his cover.

The more Clint thought about it the more he started to like this plan. He could finally truly let go and tell Fury all the things he’d been wanting to for _years_ . Opportunities like this didn’t come along often and he was _determined_ to take this one and run with it for all he was worth. After all, Fury couldn’t take any action off of it because it was vital to hm maintaining his cover. Clint grinned ferally and looked at Dick 12 “Shit man, we get _paid_ to tell people off? This is the best job _ever_.” 

Dick 12 laughed. “Yeah man.”

Dick 12 walked Clint through getting all the necessary computer systems up and running. He showed him which company programs to use and how to find the online version of the Daily Hit List. Then he pointed him to the phone directory and walked him through pulling up Fury’s personal cell number.

“Now, before you begin I just want to let you know a couple of things. First, always refer to yourself as Bob. Second, this is a fun place to work and we encourage our employees to enjoy what they do. If you’re having fun, you’re going to perform better. So go crazy man. The only stipulation is that you cannot issue any death threats. You can threaten with bodily harm but you can’t threaten that anyone in SI will cause permanent death. That’s just not kosher.” Dick 12 said.

“I forgot to mention this, but the online system will include some information on why you’re telling off the specific person selected. For instance, Nick Fury sent a couple of agents, _again_ , to try to steal proprietary SI technology. Needless to say, this pissed off Dr. Stark. Thus he has earned himself a call from the DIC” Dick 12 said shaking his head sadly. “Honestly though, Fury gets calls almost daily from our department. That man doesn’t know when enough is enough.” Dick 12 rolled his eyes.

“Wow, I did not know that,” Clint said. He dialed Fury’s personal cell number.

“Hello Mr. Fury, this is Bob from SI calling on behalf of Dr. Stark,” Clint said.

“Barton?! How the fuck did you even get this number?! What do you _mean_ Bob? You’re a _BOB_?!” Fury demanded.

“Your blatant inability to keep your manipulative nose out of Dr. Stark’s business is not only not appreciated, it’s fucking stupid. You run an intelligence agency and yet you’re transparent as fuck.” Clint said with relish.

“Transparent?! Watch yourself, Barton…” Fury spat angrily.

“What the hell is wrong with you that you think you can steal the intellectual property of Dr. Stark without consequences? Dr. Stark was called the Merchant of Death for a reason Bitch” Clint said emphatically. He was getting into this. Who knew cutting Fury off would be so entertaining?

“Barton you--” Fury started.

“And if you think your special snowflake spy agency will protect you from him then you’re more of a moron then I gave you credit for...And I don’t think you’re too bright to begin with,” Clint said cutting Fury off. “You do remember how all of Dr. Stark’s enemies tend to end up ruined and publically humiliated, right? Or just plain dead? Is it your intention to piss off Dr. Stark so much that he airs _all_ of your dirty laundry on the internet? Get your shit together and stop sending your minions to _badly_ attempt to steal from Dr. Stark _or else_. Do not make me have to call you again Mr. Fury you won’t appreciate the consequences” Clint said then slammed the phone down in its cradle.

Dick 12 clapped his hands. “I think we have a natural folks,” Dick 12 said enthusiastically.

A cheer went up from the Bobs and Dicks currently in the office as Dick 12 clapped Clint on the back. 

“That felt good. That felt _really_ good,” Clint said.

Dick 12 laughed. “Welcome to the DIC” 

\-----

Calling Fury caused an epiphany moment for Clint. And as he went off to lunch he realized that he loved what he was doing. And his coworkers were fantastic. Over lunch, he heard great stories about calling Fury, Justin Hammer, Governor Stern, and General Thaddeus Ross. And those were just a few of the regulars.

The office environment was seriously laid back. Clint brought a dart board to work and set it up in his cube. Clint enjoyed throwing darts while bitching people out. And the other Bobs were starting to get into throwing darts too. His 6th day at work, they held a mini-competition for dart throwing and Clint enjoyed the fuck out of wiping the floor with the entire department. Seriously, Dick 86 cried. It was _glorious_.

His first week he called and bitched out Fury 7 times. There was a day there where he had to call him 3 times. He wasn’t remotely surprised. He really _really_ wasn’t. Fury brought that shit on himself.

Clint’s first two weeks of work were _amazing_ . He got _paid_ to tell people off! This was the dream job he didn’t even know he’d been dreaming of. He’d found himself starting to whistle on his way to and from work. His co-workers were fantastic and they’d gone out for drinks and bitched about the bitches they were telling off.

Clint had a problem; he was still on Shield’s payroll.

He’d been going back and forth in his head about what to do. On the one hand, Shield was a good cause and he got to use his archery skills to help people. On the other hand, the pay was atrocious, the benefits sucked big,hairy monkey balls and the hours were nightmare inducing. Not to mention that every single time he went on an op he was risking his life or permanent injury.

Well, when put like that. It seemed his decision had already been made. Now he just had to let Fury and Coulson know.

Clint went and got some paper and a pen and started to write his resignation letter. Once he’d put the finishing touches on his letter he sat back pleased with himself. Yes, that conveyed his feelings perfectly. He grinned like a shark. Time to send it off.

He snuck into Shield via the vents, his favorite method of transportation, and made his way to Fury’s office. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he popped out of the vent and set his badly drawn picture of a dog holding a slice of pizza with the words “I quit. Clint Barton" on it on Fury’s desk. He made sure it was front and that Fury wouldn’t be able to miss it then he got back into the vent and left.

And with that, Clint’s tenure at Shield was over.


End file.
